A Writer’s Confession

by Isabelle Taguba • March 2, 2018

My emotions are running high, ideas are flying, and various opinions are in full supply. The best way to get it off my chest, writing.

I’ve come across different people and asked them the kind of therapeutic they do if they feel lonely or depressed, others would say inviting friends and hang out in a coffee shop, choosing what kind of flavor they would have in long talks, some would suggest travelling to different places, such as beach, where one could forget all forms of agony, pain, regret, and frustration.

I remember a dear college friend who weekly goes to his psychiatrist, taking all the advice to cure his anxieties. More than that, he covers instrumental videos that would help him release his tension. He always needed someone to talk to, to be able to lift the burden inside him. I also remember my mom who would highly recommend me to actively participate in church camp activities to get to know more people and help me grow in my spiritual aspect. And there is nothing wrong with that. In fact, in any ways, it’s healthy to give people a personal space, an outlet of abstract emotions.

Writing, as one of my interests, is my companion. It gives me the security of not being alone. Writing is where I always find myself wandering into distinct perspectives, learning how to get under someone else’s skin. It is where I vent my strength and weakness. I write because I need to settle my rage within me. Writing helps me get back in time where I can visit my pain, fear, weaknesses, nightmares, and demons. It carries me when I couldn’t any longer fight and control my battle, my sense of insecurities within myself when it comes to people and relationships. Writing is my ally when I feel like no one else understands my deepest thoughts and anxieties because I feel like someone stands up for me. It is an essential part of my survival and healing process. I put my feelings into words to get them outside my body, to understand what’s really in my heart, to pass time. I write to breathe again. I write to hope for future, to see beyond things out of me.

Writing for me has never been just a paper and pen, a laptop, or a typewriter, but it is my tool for a sense of awakening and conviction. It has always been a part of my life because as I get older, it transforms into a different kind. I write to make sense of what’s happening in my life, to try and explore the emotions that people feel through an extension of myself and others. I truly believe that everyone has a story in them but what they choose to do, it is what matters. Writing, for me, is not about the readers won’t like, but it’s about the connection that makes it more than worthwhile. It’s about building a bond towards people. It makes me shape, experience, and feel into something another person can read and understand. In that need, to feel understood, to know that what one thinks or feels matters, is universal.